Post by Vincent Augustine on Oct 28, 2018 18:40:42 GMT -5
The black 1982 Trans Am pulled off of Highway 51 in Illinois and stopped at the in front of the Love’s truck stop on the corner of Main and Highway 51. Out of the driver’s seat stepped a man standing 6’1” tall with curly sandy blonde hair. He wore jeans and a black button up shirt with a twinge of chest hair screaming to escape from it. For a moment the man stood, took in a deep breath and then slammed the door before heading for the door of the truck stop. For the shortest of moments he paused and stared at the man lying on the sidewalk next to the trash can, a twinge of sympathy rose but he shook it off and strode into the truck stop.
The man on the sidewalk shivered and rolled over, his eyes fluttering with rapid eye movement, the dreams came as nightmares to him, the black car chasing him, the familiar music always blaring in his head. ‘Duda duda duda, DUDA, DUDA, duda duda duda, DUDA, DUDA.’ The song repeated, over and over as the car chased him. Through the trees, down the banks and even into a river, the car kept coming, the red bar moving side to side, the music blasting at him, as if being beamed directly into his head. The man rolled again and awoke with a shiver and chilled fear as his eyes fixed on the Black car sitting in the parking spot near him.
Slowly the man rose to his feet, his black pants where covered with dirt, and his light gray sweater was bordering on being black. He pulled the hoodie of the sweater over his head and moved towards the 1982 Trans Am that rested before him. Lightly the man ran his hand across it as he walked from front to back on the passenger side. “You and me again, you haunt my dreams demon car, and now here you are once again. Like that little piece of shit that sticks to the strands of hair on your ass cheeks, then dries and gets hard, pulling the hairs out when you remove it.” Circling around the back, the man placed his hand on the back window, pulled in a deep breath, then exhaled.
“Yo buddy!” Came a voice, pulling the man back from his moment of relaxation. Quickly the man looked in the direction of the voice to see the curly haired man stepping down off the curb on the driver’s side of the car. “Help you buddy?” He asked as he set down a fountain drink on the roof, and a carry bag with what looked like chips and candy. “Hey buddy? Deaf?” From the driver’s side he was circling around to the back of the car to confront the man with hand on the back window.
“Are you the driver of this demon?” The homeless looking man at the back of the car asked. His hand smeared his fingerprints all over the back window as he continued to feel the car.
“Yeah this beast is mine.” The man replied with a smile. “Bought this when I was 16 years old, spent the last 20 years keeping her looking good, glad to see someone else appreciate it.” The man extended his hand. “Name’s Mike.”
Mike stood there hand outstretched and the homeless man just stared at it for a long minute. “Of course it is.” Came the homeless man’s reply as he turned, switched hands on the car, and began walking back to the front of it on the passenger’s side, hand never leaving the car.
“You ok?” Mike asked as he watched with confusion and concern. Something was wrong with this homeless man, and it was only a question of how long he would let this go on. “Look you need a ride or something?” Mike asked, his brain immediately screaming at him, ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ But the damage was already done, he asked the question and the homeless man was already opening the passenger door and climbing in. Mike hustled around, grabbed his drink and snacks and slipped into the driver’s seat.
“Like how you hid the reality in here.” The homeless man said. “But then that’s what you have to do, hide the reality behind the false bravado of strength, don’t let anyone see who you really are right? Might scare people to know that you are not what you claim to be.” The homeless man’s hand ran along the dash. “Such a good job, may even be able to fool a good handful of people, but some of us can see right through that false exterior that you throw up.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mike asked as he powered up the car and began to back up.
“Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.” The homeless man said as he laid his head against the rest and rolled it to look out the passenger’s window.
“Where you going?” Mike asked.
“Haddonfield.” The homeless man said, his eyes beginning to close from the tired that was attacking him.
“Same, big wrestling show there this weekend.” Mike fired the engine up, and began to back out of the parking lot.
“I already knew you were.” The homeless man said half under his breath, out of earshot of Mike, and then he fell asleep. Instantly he was assaulted by the black car chasing him, trying to run him down, but then he was inside of it, taking control from it, and in that moment he understood what needed to be done, the Knight Rider needed to be stopped, and now he was in the perfect place to take care of that very thing.
Mike jumped as the homeless man sat bolt upright in the seat next to him. “What…..” Mike tried to ask a question but the blow came so quick he had no time to react or finish the question. His head rocked back hard, striking the driver side window and shattering it, the warmth of his blood rushing down the back of his head. The car swerved as Mike’s limp arms pulled the wheel and at 75 mph it jerked and flew off the roadway and head first into a tree, Mike’s head bouncing off the steering wheel with a sick thud.
Minutes passed as the steam and smoke bellowed from the destroyed front end of the car, and then the passenger door swung open and the homeless man rolled out of it. On the highway a red ford pulled to a stop on the shoulder and an elderly man stepped out, rushing with a waddle towards the accident. “Are you ok mister?” The elderly man yelled as he tried to guide his heavyset body down the slight embankment towards the car.
“Don’t worry, the Knight Rider won’t be hunting in anyone else anytime soon.” The homeless man pronounced with an air of victory in his voice.
“What?” The elderly man asked as he came to a stop at the sight of the rage in the homeless looking man’s eyes.
“Michael Knight and Kitt are no more. I was able to take them down from the inside.” The homeless man stumbled to get up the slight embankment, working his way towards the elderly man and his truck.
“Who the hell are Michael Knight and Kitt?” The elderly man asked.
“They are the knight Rider.” The homeless man stated definitively.
“Are you talking about the show from the 80’s?” The elderly man asked.
“NO!” Yelled the homeless man. “I am talking about that piece of shit right there, driver and car. They tried to pretend to be something they were not, it’s what the Knight Rider is good at doing, tricking people into thinking they are something they are not, so they can get an advantage, but I saw through the charade, and I destroyed them, from the inside.” The homeless man stated as he reached the top of the embankment and stood up straight.
“There is someone in the car still? Oh my god what did you do?” The elderly man asked as he pushed hard to the car and pulled open the driver’s side door pulling Mike out of it. “Oh Jesus.” He yelled as he saw the damage to the man while placing him on his back on the ground. With a quick glance up the elderly man saw his truck scream off down the highway, the homeless man behind the wheel. “NO!!!!” The old man screamed as he saw his 9 year old grandson in the rear window staring out at him.
“Why did you take Papa’s truck?” The little boy asked.
“Have to get away from the Knight Rider, just in case.” The homeless man stated as he guided the truck down the highway.
“I know who you are, you are Vincent Augustine.” The boy said. “That wasn’t the Night Rider. The Night rider is the Angel of Death, not a car.” Vincent slammed on the brakes and the truck came to a skidding stop on the right shoulder of the highway.
“The Angel of Death?” Vincent asked as he looked to the back seat of the truck. The boy nodded in response and Vincent just smiled. “Then let’s meet the Angel of Death.” A sick smile crossed Vincent’s face as he slammed the gas pedal to the floor and unbuckled his seat belt. The truck screamed down the highway then made a hard left, crossing the oncoming traffic lane and slamming through a tree, Vincent being thrown through the windshield and landing in a field. The boy in the back seat striking his head on the seat in front of him and passing out, but not being harmed in any other way.
“It’s time Vincent.” A voice announced.
Vincent looked around the dark cloudy air around him; there was no one, just the voice. “Time for what?” Vincent asked.
“Time to go Vincent, time to meet.” The voice answered back.
“Are you the Angel of Death?” Vincent asked.
“Aye.” Came the response as a shadowy apparition appeared before Vincent.
“It’s about time we met.” The voice wasn’t Vincent’s but it came from Vincent’s lips. Vincent’s hand reached out and grabbed the Angel by the hand and pulled him in close, putting a rear naked choke on him.
“Who are you?” The Angel of Death asked as he gasped for air.
“Vincent Augustine.” Vincent proclaimed as he continued to choke the Angel of death. When the struggle ended Vincent released the Angel and stood over it, removing the cloak to reveal Night Rider there lying unconscious before him. “All that bravado, all that strength and you lack the one thing that is required in life, DETERMINATION. Count your blessings, because this unveiling of who you really are will be the best thing that has ever happened to you. So don’t be afraid as you go towards that light, accept what you have been given, and reap what you have sown, for I am more reaper than you ever will be.”
“VINCENT!” A voice yelled from within the nether and then the smoke cleared and Vincent was ripped away from Night Rider, and assaulted by a bright light. “Vincent!” A bald man stood over him. “Stay focused, you have thankfully no serious injuries, just a major concussion, and we are just one day away from Helloween. Remember the person who imprisoned you, tortured you, is at WCF, and I didn’t break you out of that place so you could crash cars and trucks.” The man smiled at Vincent. “Now get back to work.”
Vincent was helped to his feet and pushed out of a door, another man grabbed him and stuffed him into a trunk of a car. They drove for what felt like hours, and then the trunk popped open and Vincent was pulled out, set upon his feet, and shown the sign that stated Haddonfield 4 miles. “Get to walking.” The modulated voice announced as the trunk slammed, and the car sped away. Vincent stood there for a moment and then smiled, making his way to Helloween, to do one thing, destroy the Angel of Death again!
The man on the sidewalk shivered and rolled over, his eyes fluttering with rapid eye movement, the dreams came as nightmares to him, the black car chasing him, the familiar music always blaring in his head. ‘Duda duda duda, DUDA, DUDA, duda duda duda, DUDA, DUDA.’ The song repeated, over and over as the car chased him. Through the trees, down the banks and even into a river, the car kept coming, the red bar moving side to side, the music blasting at him, as if being beamed directly into his head. The man rolled again and awoke with a shiver and chilled fear as his eyes fixed on the Black car sitting in the parking spot near him.
Slowly the man rose to his feet, his black pants where covered with dirt, and his light gray sweater was bordering on being black. He pulled the hoodie of the sweater over his head and moved towards the 1982 Trans Am that rested before him. Lightly the man ran his hand across it as he walked from front to back on the passenger side. “You and me again, you haunt my dreams demon car, and now here you are once again. Like that little piece of shit that sticks to the strands of hair on your ass cheeks, then dries and gets hard, pulling the hairs out when you remove it.” Circling around the back, the man placed his hand on the back window, pulled in a deep breath, then exhaled.
“Yo buddy!” Came a voice, pulling the man back from his moment of relaxation. Quickly the man looked in the direction of the voice to see the curly haired man stepping down off the curb on the driver’s side of the car. “Help you buddy?” He asked as he set down a fountain drink on the roof, and a carry bag with what looked like chips and candy. “Hey buddy? Deaf?” From the driver’s side he was circling around to the back of the car to confront the man with hand on the back window.
“Are you the driver of this demon?” The homeless looking man at the back of the car asked. His hand smeared his fingerprints all over the back window as he continued to feel the car.
“Yeah this beast is mine.” The man replied with a smile. “Bought this when I was 16 years old, spent the last 20 years keeping her looking good, glad to see someone else appreciate it.” The man extended his hand. “Name’s Mike.”
Mike stood there hand outstretched and the homeless man just stared at it for a long minute. “Of course it is.” Came the homeless man’s reply as he turned, switched hands on the car, and began walking back to the front of it on the passenger’s side, hand never leaving the car.
“You ok?” Mike asked as he watched with confusion and concern. Something was wrong with this homeless man, and it was only a question of how long he would let this go on. “Look you need a ride or something?” Mike asked, his brain immediately screaming at him, ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ But the damage was already done, he asked the question and the homeless man was already opening the passenger door and climbing in. Mike hustled around, grabbed his drink and snacks and slipped into the driver’s seat.
“Like how you hid the reality in here.” The homeless man said. “But then that’s what you have to do, hide the reality behind the false bravado of strength, don’t let anyone see who you really are right? Might scare people to know that you are not what you claim to be.” The homeless man’s hand ran along the dash. “Such a good job, may even be able to fool a good handful of people, but some of us can see right through that false exterior that you throw up.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mike asked as he powered up the car and began to back up.
“Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.” The homeless man said as he laid his head against the rest and rolled it to look out the passenger’s window.
“Where you going?” Mike asked.
“Haddonfield.” The homeless man said, his eyes beginning to close from the tired that was attacking him.
“Same, big wrestling show there this weekend.” Mike fired the engine up, and began to back out of the parking lot.
“I already knew you were.” The homeless man said half under his breath, out of earshot of Mike, and then he fell asleep. Instantly he was assaulted by the black car chasing him, trying to run him down, but then he was inside of it, taking control from it, and in that moment he understood what needed to be done, the Knight Rider needed to be stopped, and now he was in the perfect place to take care of that very thing.
Mike jumped as the homeless man sat bolt upright in the seat next to him. “What…..” Mike tried to ask a question but the blow came so quick he had no time to react or finish the question. His head rocked back hard, striking the driver side window and shattering it, the warmth of his blood rushing down the back of his head. The car swerved as Mike’s limp arms pulled the wheel and at 75 mph it jerked and flew off the roadway and head first into a tree, Mike’s head bouncing off the steering wheel with a sick thud.
Minutes passed as the steam and smoke bellowed from the destroyed front end of the car, and then the passenger door swung open and the homeless man rolled out of it. On the highway a red ford pulled to a stop on the shoulder and an elderly man stepped out, rushing with a waddle towards the accident. “Are you ok mister?” The elderly man yelled as he tried to guide his heavyset body down the slight embankment towards the car.
“Don’t worry, the Knight Rider won’t be hunting in anyone else anytime soon.” The homeless man pronounced with an air of victory in his voice.
“What?” The elderly man asked as he came to a stop at the sight of the rage in the homeless looking man’s eyes.
“Michael Knight and Kitt are no more. I was able to take them down from the inside.” The homeless man stumbled to get up the slight embankment, working his way towards the elderly man and his truck.
“Who the hell are Michael Knight and Kitt?” The elderly man asked.
“They are the knight Rider.” The homeless man stated definitively.
“Are you talking about the show from the 80’s?” The elderly man asked.
“NO!” Yelled the homeless man. “I am talking about that piece of shit right there, driver and car. They tried to pretend to be something they were not, it’s what the Knight Rider is good at doing, tricking people into thinking they are something they are not, so they can get an advantage, but I saw through the charade, and I destroyed them, from the inside.” The homeless man stated as he reached the top of the embankment and stood up straight.
“There is someone in the car still? Oh my god what did you do?” The elderly man asked as he pushed hard to the car and pulled open the driver’s side door pulling Mike out of it. “Oh Jesus.” He yelled as he saw the damage to the man while placing him on his back on the ground. With a quick glance up the elderly man saw his truck scream off down the highway, the homeless man behind the wheel. “NO!!!!” The old man screamed as he saw his 9 year old grandson in the rear window staring out at him.
“Why did you take Papa’s truck?” The little boy asked.
“Have to get away from the Knight Rider, just in case.” The homeless man stated as he guided the truck down the highway.
“I know who you are, you are Vincent Augustine.” The boy said. “That wasn’t the Night Rider. The Night rider is the Angel of Death, not a car.” Vincent slammed on the brakes and the truck came to a skidding stop on the right shoulder of the highway.
“The Angel of Death?” Vincent asked as he looked to the back seat of the truck. The boy nodded in response and Vincent just smiled. “Then let’s meet the Angel of Death.” A sick smile crossed Vincent’s face as he slammed the gas pedal to the floor and unbuckled his seat belt. The truck screamed down the highway then made a hard left, crossing the oncoming traffic lane and slamming through a tree, Vincent being thrown through the windshield and landing in a field. The boy in the back seat striking his head on the seat in front of him and passing out, but not being harmed in any other way.
“It’s time Vincent.” A voice announced.
Vincent looked around the dark cloudy air around him; there was no one, just the voice. “Time for what?” Vincent asked.
“Time to go Vincent, time to meet.” The voice answered back.
“Are you the Angel of Death?” Vincent asked.
“Aye.” Came the response as a shadowy apparition appeared before Vincent.
“It’s about time we met.” The voice wasn’t Vincent’s but it came from Vincent’s lips. Vincent’s hand reached out and grabbed the Angel by the hand and pulled him in close, putting a rear naked choke on him.
“Who are you?” The Angel of Death asked as he gasped for air.
“Vincent Augustine.” Vincent proclaimed as he continued to choke the Angel of death. When the struggle ended Vincent released the Angel and stood over it, removing the cloak to reveal Night Rider there lying unconscious before him. “All that bravado, all that strength and you lack the one thing that is required in life, DETERMINATION. Count your blessings, because this unveiling of who you really are will be the best thing that has ever happened to you. So don’t be afraid as you go towards that light, accept what you have been given, and reap what you have sown, for I am more reaper than you ever will be.”
“VINCENT!” A voice yelled from within the nether and then the smoke cleared and Vincent was ripped away from Night Rider, and assaulted by a bright light. “Vincent!” A bald man stood over him. “Stay focused, you have thankfully no serious injuries, just a major concussion, and we are just one day away from Helloween. Remember the person who imprisoned you, tortured you, is at WCF, and I didn’t break you out of that place so you could crash cars and trucks.” The man smiled at Vincent. “Now get back to work.”
Vincent was helped to his feet and pushed out of a door, another man grabbed him and stuffed him into a trunk of a car. They drove for what felt like hours, and then the trunk popped open and Vincent was pulled out, set upon his feet, and shown the sign that stated Haddonfield 4 miles. “Get to walking.” The modulated voice announced as the trunk slammed, and the car sped away. Vincent stood there for a moment and then smiled, making his way to Helloween, to do one thing, destroy the Angel of Death again!
